The World in a Grain of Sand
by Katie Havok
Summary: Queenie takes his jackets and kicks off her shoes before inspecting him curiously. "Where's your case, Mr. Scamander?" Newt scrubs his sweaty palms over the front of his trousers, feeling curiously unanchored. "I left it with my brother so I could catch the Floo here instead of waiting for a ship," he explains breathlessly, watching from the corner of his eye as she chews her lip.
1. Chapter 1

Newt's been in England for barely a month when an owl swoops through his window, just as he's sitting down to high tea.

He experiences a moment's irritation when the exhausted bird drops an envelope into the jam jar, only to feel instantly contrite. Meal forgotten and making soothing sounds, Newt offers the owl a perch and a dead mouse before taking up the missive, using his butter knife to break the wax seal.

The paper is a delicate shade of pink, lightly perfumed and covered top-to-bottom with an unfamiliar scrawl. He furrows his brow in confusion when he examines the valediction before pushing aside his tea to read, mouth gradually falling open in shock as words like _unexpected_ and _reputation_ and _she needs your help, Mr. Scamander_ jumps out at him, before he sighs heavily and sets the letter down.

Newt indulges in a rare moment of self-pity, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands before standing to put his untouched supper away. He thinks as he works, absently grateful his manuscript is so close to completion, mind clicking along rapidly until the only truly logical solution becomes clear.

A flick of his wand sets the kitchen to cleaning itself as he retreats to the study, summoning his favorite quill, a sheet of parchment and an envelope. He squares his implements while checking his funds, finding them tighter than he'd like but by no means lacking, before taking up his pen to formulate a response.

 _Dear Miss Queenie…_

* * *

Two days later sees him standing before a familiar brownstone, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his blue jacket as he projects his thoughts as hard as he can.

The front door creeks open a few minutes later, a blonde head peeking out to surreptitiously look around before waving him forward. Newt takes the snow-dusted steps at a light jog, deftly moving through the hallway and up the stairs, holding his breath until the double doors are safely locked behind them.

Queenie takes his jackets and kicks off her shoes before inspecting him curiously. "Where's your case, Mr. Scamander?"

Newt scrubs his hands over the front of his trousers, feeling curiously unanchored. "I left it with my brother so I could catch the Floo here instead of waiting for a ship," he explains breathlessly, watching from the corner of his eye as she chews her lip, making an obvious effort to stay out of his head. His shoulders relax when she produces no recriminations, touching his waistcoat pocket to feel Pickett stir curiously beneath his fingers. "I can only stay three days. I—I think that will be long enough."

She nods before gliding into the kitchen. "I think we'll be able to bring her around tonight if we play our cards right," Queenie tells him. "She ain't happy about this, either."

A flick of her wand brings a cup of tea floating over to him. Newt nods his thanks before taking a tentative sip. It's strong and good, and he manages a small smile before asking the question that's been heavy on his lips.

"How is she?"

Queenie sighs while summoning a glass of milk. "Teenie ain't doing so bad," she says eventually. "She just ain't... _happy._ " She takes a sip, then, "Tina knows that you know. She saw me sending the letter and was able to guess." Another sigh and she catches his eye before going on. "She says she's upset with me but she could never hide her emotions very well. I think she wants you to help, even if she won't admit it. She was thinking about writing you herself, but..."

Newt nods and takes another sip of tea. "It's understandable for her to be unhappy," he murmurs, "as long as her health isn't suffering for it."

She smiles and shakes her head ruefully. "Tina's stronger than that. If losin' her job and what happened to Credence didn't make her crumble, then nothin' will."

Newt flinches at the reminder of their failure, and Queenie takes a moment to look sympathetic before setting her jaw. "Now, whatever you was thinking, Mr. Scamander, I'd like to hear about it. Before Tina gets here, if you don't mind, 'cause I want to make sure it's gonna work."

He meets her eyes with a forced smile, nervous sweat coating his palms. "In that case, I'm going to need some more tea," he tells her, and she Summons the pot and a tray of cookies before turning her expectant gaze on him.

* * *

Newt and Queenie are just putting supper on the table when Tina arrives home, kicking off her tired brogues and hanging her jacket before coming up short at the sight of him.

"Er, hello," Newt manages with a crooked smile when her eyes widen before cutting to the side. She sends Queenie, who smiles innocently, a hard look before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mr. Scamander. It's good to see you again."

Newt winces and drops his eyes to his boots. "I'm happy to see you, too," he tells his dusty laces and tries not to feel hurt that she no longer considers him worthy of first-name status.

Queenie makes a sympathetic sound before turning to Tina. "How ya feeling, Teenie?" she asks, her forehead creased into a frown. Newt looks up to find Tina staring at her sister, her face waxy-pale as her fingers clench the chair rail.

"What did you _make_?" Tina asks in a wobbly voice, pressing shaky knuckles to her nostrils when her throat bobs convulsively. Queenie's eyes widen in understanding as Newt withdraws his wand, casting a quick series of air-cleansing charms before moving to Tina's side.

" _Sit_ ," he tells her, cradling her elbow while pulling out the chair.

Tina doesn't sit so much as _collapse_ into it, large beads of sweat standing on her forehead. Newt crouches to be level with her eyes before reaching out to frame her face, feeling the pounding of her heart through her jaw.

"Breath with me," he says calmly, taking exaggerated deep breathes until she matches his rhythm, informing Queenie in an undertone, "It's the meat. Put it away please, or find a way to contain the smell."

Queenie waves her wand in a complex pattern as Newt holds Tina's gaze, willing her to calmness. A few careful sniffs reveal that the lingering odor of cooked meat has vanished. He casts a cooling charm, rewarded with a gentle sigh when Tina closes her eyes, before reluctantly releasing her face and standing.

"Thank you," Tina whispers, opening her eyes to pin him with her stare. "I don't know what came over me, but thank you, Newt."

Newt swallows the harsh burn of tears while inclining his head. "You're welcome, Miss Golds— _Tina_." He blinks hard before forcing himself to focus on the crook of her elbow, bringing her face into his peripheral vision. "Would you—are you hungry at all? Or would you rather skip it entirely? I can make some tea that will soothe your stomach if you'd like."

Tina shakes her head before reaching out to brush her fingertips over his knuckles. "I'm fine," she murmurs, and he can just make out the movements of her mouth when she bites her lip. "But I think...I think I'll skip supper tonight if that's okay."

He smiles slightly, fighting the urge to rotate his wrist and take her hand in his own. Pickett chooses that moment to poke his head out of Newt's waistcoat pocket, chirping a pleasant greeting before retreating. Tina grins at him and Newt's eyes are drawn back to her mouth like a magnet, watching her lips form the shape of her words. "Not that I'm not happy to see you Newt, but what are you doing here?"

Newt wishes desperately he were better at prevarication when he looks up to find that Queenie has slipped from the room, unnoticed by them both. Tina covers the back of his hand with her palm before settling the issue, confidently threading her fingers through his own. Shocked, Newt glances down at their joined hands, blinking hard until he's managed to convince himself that _this is actually happening_ before gulping and lowering himself to his knees.

Tina makes a questioning sound when he reaches out to take her other hand, watching him curiously as he absently strokes her third finger while gathering his courage. Feeling her eyes on him, irritated by his own faulty resolve and sternly reminding himself of the inarguable logic of his idea, Newt huffs frustratedly before starting in the middle.

"It's not unusual for pregnant females to be discomfited by the smell of certain foods," he blurts, ignoring her shocked intake of air as he squeezes her fingers. "I realize that this is abrupt and your sister tells me that you were attempting to come up with a plan, but I felt it prudent to come and talk to you in person. I think you deserve that much."

She presses her lips together unhappily and he hurries on, desperate to get it out before he chokes. "I'm not convinced the 'European cousin' excuse is the best solution here because I _know_ you'll wish to work for as long as possible and it's...very difficult to hide a delicate condition after a time." He strokes her hand reassuringly when she blanches. "And while I'm perfectly aware that I am not...that the child isn't...while I know that I am not the _responsible_ party here, I think you've misread me _terribly_ if you thought I'd walk away from you, as your sister seemed to imply."

He gulps when her fingers clamp around him, hard enough to dig her fingernails into his skin, and looks up to find her watching him with round eyes. "So Tina...Miss Goldstein...if you'd consider it, I'd like to offer you a possible solution."

Her throat clicks when she swallows, her face pale. " _What?_ What solution?"

It's the most difficult thing Newt's ever had to do, giving her the honor of looking her in the eye when he gives voice to the most important question he will ever ask, the sound of his own rushing blood very loud in his ears: "Will you marry me, Tina?"

His heart pounds very slowly but very hard as he awaits her response. Newt's expecting angry rejection, disbelief, possibly even disgust at a perceived attempt at taking advantage of her, and is prepared to lay out his reasoning. So he's entirely flummoxed when she bursts into harsh sobs, traces of silver coating her cheeks until she hides her face in her hands.

Moving on instinct, Newt gently pries her fingers loose before gathering her in his arms. Tina chokes out his name while clutching at him convulsively, and Newt allows her to press her face into his neck as she weeps, soothingly stroking her hair.

Queenie doesn't bother them. Neither does anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Newt draws Tina a glass of water before Vanishing the tears and snot soaked into his collar, putting his back to her for privacy while she gathers herself.

Tina is pale but composed when he turns to her, and even manages a shaky smile as he passes over the drink. He sits across from her, palms pressed into the tabletop to anchor himself as he watches her drain half the glass at once, scrubbing her face when she comes up for air.

"I swear, even _water_ tastes different now," she murmurs, seemingly to herself before flashing a weak smile. "That was my first clue that something was going on. That and...other things." Her cheeks flush pink, and while Newt can reasonably guess what _other things_ may be, he has sense enough to spare her the embarrassment. He sighs instead, tracing a slight groove in the woodgrain with his fingernail.

"Are you absolutely sure of your condition, Tina?" He glances up at her from beneath his fringe. "I know women typically wait a while before announcing they are with child. I only wish to establish a timeline before we do something potentially...rash."

Tina laughs but it's a bitter sound, and he watches her face as she glares at the placemat. "There's no way I could _not_ be," she admits, hands curling into fists. "The timing fits, and I know my body and its...rhythms." She sighs harshly. "I'm sorry I didn't write to you myself. I wanted to but I couldn't find the words, I…" Her hands flutter in a helpless gesture until she sniffles and scrubs her cheeks. "No more tears," she mutters, lifting her chin defiantly.

Emotion clogs Newt's throat when he meets her eyes. "Then my offer still stands," he reassures her. "I would be absolutely honored to go on this adventure with you, Tina."

She chews her lip before haltingly sliding her hand across the table. Newt meets her halfway, threading their fingers and squeezing gently. She rewards his boldness with a small but genuine smile. "Are you sure? I was only going to ask you for a place to stay for a few months, just for my confinement before returning to the States. I never expected... _any_ of this."

"I'm sure," he says quickly and rubs his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. "I wouldn't have offered if I weren't absolutely certain that this was something I could live with."

She nods and covers his hand with her own. "And you know that this is permanent? That there's no going back when you change your mind or decide that you can't…" She lets the thought trail off, chewing her lip nervously as Newt looks into her eyes.

"I could never tire of you," he says with raw honesty. "If I'm to be absolutely honest, I had already decided to ask to court you when I returned with my book, Tina. This is all happening much faster than I had ever dared to hope for but…"

A radiant smile breaks across her face, tears welling in her eyes. "And I had already decided to allow you to call on me," she says, "so I'm glad that you were interested."

 _How could I not be?_ Newt thinks, but his throat is too tight to say it. He clears it roughly, looking away from her radiance before he says something that could embarrass him or, worse, scare her away. "Do you want more children?" he blurts instead, wincing at the raw sound of his voice. "I mean...later? After this one?"

Tina's fingers tighten around him, hard enough to make his knuckles creak. "What do you take me for?" she hisses, and he looks up to find her glaring at him, jaw set. She releases his hand without warning, and Newt shakes feeling back into it while going over his words. Confused, he watches a myriad of emotions flow over her face like water until she lowers her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. "I'm not a loose woman, Newt, despite my present condition," she spits out. "I don't like the implication that this would become a trend or that I would mindlessly breed like a—like an _animal_ or something!"

Newt shakes his head, restraining the urge to reach out to her. "That wasn't what I meant, and I think you know it," he says in as even a voice as he can manage, feeling his heartbeat in every word. "I wondered if perhaps we could have children of our own someday. That's all."

Her voice is hoarse when she talks over him. "And if I don't want more? What then?"

"Then we'll have to be very careful, provided that our relationship ever reaches the point where children become a possibility." Her head jerks up and Newt compresses his lips into a thin line before going on. "I know I'm going about this all wrong, Tina, but you should know that I don't expect that of you. I'm not asking for your hand because I wish to take advantage or to get you into bed. I'm not opposed to the idea of sex within the confines of marriage and I'll consider myself lucky in the extreme to do that with you, but that isn't my primary motivation. Not by _any_ means."

Tina makes a low sound, her eyes shining moltenly, and Newt is on the verge of apologizing _again_ when she snorts wetly before erupting into giggles. Flummoxed, he watches her dissolve into laughter, which gives way to tears until she mops at her face and waves a limp hand. "I'm sorry," she gasps, "I'm not laughing at you. I just never thought someone could make the words 'sex' and 'marriage' sound so damn _formal!_ "

Newt feels the corners of his mouth twitch as he replays his words, wincing at his own stilted manner. "I'm sure you know what I mean," he says with faux exasperation, and Tina puts her forehead in her hands as she breaks into renewed gusts of laughter. He is powerless but to join her, deciding not to be self-conscious about showing his teeth as their laughter weaves together musically until she reaches across the table to map his scarred knuckles with a delicate finger.

"I do know what you mean," Tina breathes, eyes impossibly soft, and traces the third finger of his left hand before moistening her lips. "Did you bring a ring with you, by any chance?"

He shakes his head and experiences a pang of regret when her face falls. "I thought about it," Newt admits, "but I truly believed that producing a ring would be seen as being presumptuous, for all the reasons you already cited." He squeezes her hand reassuringly. "If you'd like, I can take you to pick something out yourself. I brought money enough for that, I think, and I would rather you find something you can live with since I know absolutely _nothing_ about jewelry."

Tina laughs again, a wonderfully happy sound, and Newt grins as her cheeks turn distinctly pink. "I'd like that," she says, her eyes glowing. "Do you think we could go tomorrow? I have the day off."

Newt doesn't get a chance to answer before the bedroom door slides open to eject a beaming, blonde head. "I'm so glad you two are decided!" Queenie squeals, and bursts into the sitting room. She scoops Tina up in a wet and bouncy hug, the two of them making delighted sounds as Newt wipes his eyes.

Queenie turns to him then, pulling him to his feet to join the hugging, which somehow ends with his arms around Tina as Queenie dashes off a letter and tosses it into the Floo, his face inches from hers as she blushes and her smirking sister bustles over to the stove.

"We'll go tomorrow," Newt promises in a low voice, his eyes falling automatically to her lips. "I... _thank_ you, Tina."

"I'm the one who should be thanking _you_ ," she whispers, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw for a long, poignant moment before turning to Queenie to declare that she is hungry, after all.

* * *

Tina and Newt share the couch after supper, sitting close enough to touch at their thigh and shoulder as the fire burns low. Tina tells him in a shaky voice an abridged version of the events surrounding her pregnancy, the question of paternity and her constant ache at the disappearance of Mr. Graves. Newt offers no comment when she outlines her momentary lapse in judgment until her hands tremble, tears standing in her eyes.

"That's why I didn't write to you," she chokes. "I _truly_ thought you'd turn me away. I'm very sorry that I've put us in this position, Newt."

Newt can't help but chuckle as he brushes her hair out of her eyes. "Why are you worried about that? I'm not." He swallows and forces himself to meet her eyes when her lips tremble. "I always wanted a family," he confesses in a whisper, "and I'm truly glad to be starting one with you right away. I only wish I didn't have to go back to England so soon."

Tina slides her arm around his shoulders, pulling him close until their foreheads touch. "Do you really think we can be married in a day's time without seeming suspicion?"

Her breath tickles his cheek, and Newt closes his eyes. "My brother has proven himself to be amazingly competent and has already sent everything we need over to MACUSA. You needn't worry on that count, Tina."

She hums and leans back, bringing him with her until they sprawl together. "That's good," she mumbles sleepily and tentatively touches his hair. "I'm glad you managed to think of everything, Newt. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he whispers, but she's already half-asleep, the sculpted bow of her lips parted to reveal dainty white teeth. Newt stares until he's had his fill before shifting to free his trapped arm. He makes to move away until she snares him with a negating whine, eyelashes fluttering.

"Alright," he whispers, and hesitantly wraps his arms around her waist before closing his eyes.

* * *

They wake in a comfortable tangle early the next morning, sharing a secret smile before rising.

Newt allows Tina to use the toilet first, and so he's the one who fetches the unexpected parchment scroll from the MACUSA pigeon. It's addressed to both of them but he decides to wait until she comes back, pacing to convince himself that his back teeth are not _actually_ floating until she breezes into the room, washed and dressed and face positively glowing, the sight causing him to temporarily forget his own straining bladder.

"Good morning," she says shyly, and the urge to kiss her is well-nigh irresistible until his lower half gives another warning twinge, causing him to wince. They share a breathless laugh when he fetches his leather hygiene pouch, fleeing down the hall with his feet barely touching the floor.

He returns to find Tina pale and strained, nervously gnawing her lips as the thick parchment trembles in her hand.

"It's from President Picquery," she mumbles frantically. "She's going to be marrying us herself and she wants us there at 1 pm." She looks at him, eyes very wide. "Is that—is that enough time? Can we eat and buy a ring and be ready by then?"

Newt reaches for the parchment, reading it at a glance before laying it aside. "It's only just half-past seven now," he tells her soothingly. "We have ample time to get ready, I promise. Please don't worry yourself."

"I can't help it!" Tina bursts out, a tremble working through her body until her voice jags unpleasantly. "I don't have a dress or rings, I don't even know when I'm going to see you again after tomorrow night, I only know that I'm not _ready_ for this!" She curls her fingers into her hair to tug, eyes squeezing shut as he helplessly attempts to calm her down. "Newt, I can't—I don't know if I—"

"Geez, you two think so _loud_ ," a voice grumbles behind them, still thick with sleep. Queenie drifts into the sitting room, eyes at half-mast, face free of cosmetics as her hair wrap waves lazy tendrils in the air. "Teenie, why are you even worried? You're a witch, ain't ya? And you got me to help. Besides, I'm sure Newt cleans up just fine, don'tcha honey? Look, he even shaved for you."

He manages a thin smile when Tina whirls on him, eyes still frantic but beginning to calm. "She's right," he says in his most confident voice. "Magic can take care of everything that we don't have time to dedicate our full attention to, and obviously MACUSA is agreeable if Madam President herself will be officiating." He sniffs, infusing his voice with a certain frustrated elegance. "I'm sure it's only a ruse designed to keep me in line, but the jokes on them when they realize I didn't even bring my case!"

The weak joke serves to break the tension, as he had hoped, and they burst into semi-hysterical laughter until Queenie walks away to prepare breakfast. Newt hardly tastes his food, nerves stealing into his stomach to tie it in knots when he and Tina dress is separate rooms until Queenie rolls her eyes theatrically and kicks them out of the apartment.

"Don't come back until you have the rings!" she calls after them, and Tina blushes prettily the whole way to the jewelry store, her arm shyly threaded through Newts.

"You know," she says in an undertone as they inspect the simple but elegant wares, "I don't really need an engagement ring. So what do you say we skip it and buy you something instead? I'm sure we can make it creature-proof, and matching bands are all the rage among No-Maj's right now."

A happy thrill races from his scalp down to his toes when he considers her words before nodding agreement. A beaming Tina picks out their bands, elegant platinum with an understated gold braid woven throughout it. "They're just like Ma and Pa's," she explains softly. Newt pays without comment after they are fitted, accepting the bag from the store clerk before stashing it in his jacket.

They walk back to the brownstone in silence, both pretending not to notice when she slides her hand into his, twining their fingers together.

* * *

Tina wears a simple but lovely white dress to take his hand in marriage, one elegant shoulder on display as she recites her vows.

Newt focuses on the expanse of snow-white skin while repeating his part back to her, momentarily forgetting the Billywigs fluttering in his stomach and his sweaty palms when he finds her eyes and promises himself to her for today, tomorrow and always. He lifts her wedding veil when President Picquery announces them to kiss her beneath a canopy that matches his suit and her bouquet, their first kiss as soft and tender as he could have ever dared to dream.

He steps into her when she deepens it, her hand cradling his jaw as his circles her back. They part to find the President smiling and Queenie weeping, her face infused with joy. Even Abernathy, press-ganged into standing as a second witness, smiles stoically despite the suspicious sheen in his eyes, and his congratulations seem sincere when he gives Tina the rest of the week off.

"You've earned it," he says gruffly. Queenie pulls Abernathy into a powdery hug before leading him away, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

They each shake Picquery's hand before Newt slips her a little something for her trouble, thanking her sincerely when she, too, walks away, and they are left alone.

"Well," Tina says faintly, looking anywhere but at him. "It seems we're married, Mr. Scamander. What—what would you like to do now?"

He can think of about a thousand different answer to that question, most of them ending at the same pleasant destination, and he almost says so until he really _looks_ at her. Tina is pale and waxy once more, eyes wide and very dark in her face. Compassion swells in his chest when he reaches for her, pulling her into his arms.

"Whatever you'd like to do," he promises and inhales the good, clean scent of her simply styled hair. "We can go to your apartment and sleep if you'd like. Or I can take you to a restaurant if you're hungry. I can even cook if you wish to change into something more comfortable." She blushes at that, and he winces at his own insensitivity before going on. "What I mean is—er, I only want you to be _happy_ , Tina."

"I am happy," Tina murmurs, and cups his cheek. "And...I really think I'd like a nap if that's okay. I'm starting to not feel well again and I'd rather not be sick on our wedding day."

Newt closes his eyes at those words, another happy thrill temporarily nailing his feet to the floor. _Wedding day…_

She's smiling faintly when he opens them again, though now he can see the signs of strain. "Let's get you home and maybe have something to eat," he murmurs in his warmest voice, and embraces her before Disapparating them back to her apartment*


	3. Chapter 3

No sooner have they appeared in her sitting room than Tina launches herself out of his arms, hurtling down the hall toward the water closet.

The door slams in her wake, and Newt stares at it until the sound of coughing and retching reaches his ears. He winces and nervously purses his lips before following after her, admitting himself at the sound of her groan.

Tina lays prone before the toilet, arms draped around the bowl as she rests her forehead on the porcelain. "I'm really sorry," she mumbles when he crouches beside her to offer his handkerchief. "I _just_ said I didn't want to be sick."

Newt smiles while pushing her hair behind her ears, watching her close her eyes. "It's absolutely _not_ your fault," he murmurs and rubs soothing circles on her back when her throat hitches. "In retrospect, Disapparating with you was probably not the best idea. It's not like you can help it, besides."

She sighs raggedly while reaching for his hand. "I really hate this. Does it ever stop?"

He gently squeezes her fingers and is rewarded with a weak smile. "It should go away on its own, though it's really a question of when." She arches an elegant eyebrow and he smiles sheepishly as heat floods his face. "I...did some reading before I came over. I managed to get my hands on medical textbooks with a focus on the subject. It's all really quite fascinating but you won't feel this way forever, I promise."

Tina straightens to lean her back against the wall, scrubbing her mouth as Newt Conjures a glass of water. She swishes and spits into the toilet before murmuring her thanks. "If I had known this would happen," she mumbles, "I would've been more careful."

Newt squints at her, trying and failing to contain his innate curiosity. "What, um—you didn't know, Tina? That this could happen?" He makes an expansive gesture to encompass her and the toilet before frowning. "Did your schooling not teach you? Or—"

"Of course I knew," Tina says quickly, cheeks coloring. "I just didn't _think._ When Mr. Graves and I, when we—making a baby was the _last_ thing on our minds, Newt."

He moves to sit beside her, heartened when she firms her grip on his hand. "Do...do you want to tell me more about it?" Newt asks, meeting her eyes fleetingly before looking away. "Would that make you feel any better?"

Her eyes fall to her lap. "I don't know if it would make me feel _better_ ," she whispers, nervously picking at the hem of her gown, "but it might help me _process_ it a little more." Newt sandwiches her hand between his own, and Tina shows a small smile before closing her eyes.

"It was right after I was demoted," she begins, and Newt takes the opportunity to watch her face as she speaks, his eyes lingering on the curve of her eyebrow, the delicate bow of her mouth. "He had just come back from a case, and I could tell it was bad. So I went to his office." She pushes a sheaf of dark hair behind her ear with a bitter laugh, lifting her head to look at him. "Because that's what we did when it was bad. We'd meet in his office and make each other feel better."

Newt nervously moistens his lips before stroking her knuckles. "Forgive me if I'm being insensitive," he murmurs, catching her eye. "But did you always make yourselves feel better by…?"

"By having sex?" Tina asks and smiles sadly. "Not always, no. I could count on one hand the number of times we were intimate, and have a few fingers left over. But it was convenient when it did happen because it was one less thing I had to worry about." She runs her thumbnail along the scars on his knuckles, expression pensive. "That sounds awful when I put it that way, but it's the truth. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," Newt says immediately and squeezes her hand when she sighs and rests her head on his shoulder. He shifts slightly to mitigate the warning tingle in his backside, careful not to displace her as she relaxes against him. "There is _nothing_ bad in giving and receiving comfort during dark times, Tina," he murmurs, tentatively running his fingers through her hair. "Nothing at all."

Tina hums and curls into him. "I know you're right," she mumbles, voice languid. He glances down to find her properly snuggling him, her arms sliding around his waist. "What about you?" she asks. "Do you have experience in 'giving comfort during dark times', as you put it?"

Newt smirks at her. "Are you asking me if I'm a _virgin_?" he teases gently, and lays his hand between her shoulder blades, rubbing broad circles as he stares at the bathroom tile. "I...no. I'm not. A virgin, I mean. I'll admit that I developed my philosophy about comfort during the war."

She makes a low, disorganized sound, and his smirk transforms into a smile when he notices that she's half-asleep against him, her head heavy on his shoulder. "Come on, then," he whispers and slides his arm around her when he rolls to his knees, supporting her as she blinks at him owlishly. "Let's get you off to bed."

"I'm okay—" Tina begins, only to cut herself off with a jaw-cracking yawn. Her ears turn pink when Newt chuckles while climbing to his feet, bending to help her up. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, leaning into him to hide her face in his chest. "I'm really not sure why I'm so tired all of a sudden."

"It's because I was talking," Newt quips, guiding her toward the door.

Tina stops short to look up at him with dark eyes, causing him to stumble. "That's not it," she says. "I just think your voice is very comforting. It's the accent." The red in her ears move to her cheeks, and Newt, touched and amused, entertains the possibility of kissing her soundly before reluctantly discarding it.

Something of his thoughts must show on his face because Tina nibbles her lip while touching his hair. "It's okay," she says and shows a slow smile. "Will you help me to bed, please? I think it's time for my nap."

Newt supports her as they make their slow way down the hall, helping her shed her veil and climb into bed before bringing the blankets to her chin. "Sleep well," he murmurs and debates for a long moment before pressing dry lips to her forehead, lingering to breathe in her scent. She hums contentedly when he squeezes her shoulder, only for her hand to flash out and snare him as he begins to move away.

"Stay?" she asks, dark eyes never leaving his face as she deliberately makes room in the narrow bed.

He does.

* * *

It's the tickling sensation in his nose that wakes him.

Newt cracks open an eye to find that they've shifted in their sleep. Tina lays spooned against him, her body a soft line of warmth from his shoulder to his knees. His face is pressed into her hair, explaining the irritation, and his arm is draped over her waist, the other one pinned beneath her as she clutches his hand. He leans his forehead against the nape of her neck, exhaling slowly when he closes his eyes, and the slight shift causes him to become aware of another, more _immediate_ concern.

He tenses, and the slight friction is enough to make him stifle a whine. Tina, _blast_ his rotten luck, chooses that moment to come awake, stretching with a languid moan and pressing the curve of her ass against his groin. They freeze simultaneously when she realizes his predicament, Newt holding his breath until she turns in his arms, hiding her face in his neck.

"Good morning doesn't really work," she mumbles around a yawn, "but good evening just sounds absurd." She takes a deep breath. "And I'm sorry, I don't mean to tease."

She lightly kisses his throat, and Newt is forced to swallow hard before finding his voice. "It's—ah, it's okay," he rasps. "I just don't want you to think I was being _intentionally_ inappropriate."

Tina laughs, the light puff of her breath causing his neck and chest to ripple into goosebumps. "I don't think you could be inappropriate if you tried," she murmurs and kisses his throat again before tipping her head back to smile up at him. "Even if you did offer to marry a pregnant woman."

"It was the most logical solution," he argues with a smirk, and slowly runs his hand down the line of her back, his calluses rasping loudly over the satiny material of her wedding gown. She is sleep-warm and sloe-eyed against him, her loose limbs tangled with his, and he wrestles down a fierce, sweeping _want_ before leaning their foreheads together. "Did you sleep well, Tina?"

She hums while sitting up. "I did," she murmurs, and he can see by the light of the setting sun that she has regained her color, her cheeks glowing happily when she stretches. "In fact, I'm hungry for a good sandwich. _Oooh,_ and pickles."

Newt, who _can_ take a hint from time to time, sits up as well, stretching with a low groan before bouncing onto his feet. "Come on, then," he smiles, extending a hand to her. "Shall I make you something? Or would you prefer to go out? I don't think it's too late."

Tina puts her hand in his to stand, smoothing down her adorably mussed hair. "I wouldn't mind going out," she admits and smiles shyly from beneath her eyelashes. "It _is_ our wedding night, so we should do... _something_...to celebrate."

"I'm fine with that," Newt says, fingering his bowtie. "Just allow me to change, and—" His words fumble to an abrupt halt when she covers his hand with her own, stroking the edge of his collar.

"Can we stay in our nice clothes, please?" She asks, smoothing the lapel on his waistcoat. "I know it's probably stupid to want to go to a deli in my wedding dress but...just for tonight, can we pretend this is something we both wanted?"

He lowers his eyes to the floor at her words, abruptly reminded that for all that he _wants_ this woman, theirs is a marriage of convenience—nothing more. "Alright," he agrees, willing the tremor out of his voice. "We'll stay like this if that's what you'd like."

Tina smiles at him when he finally looks up, straightening his bowtie before tapping him with her wand. His suit magically freshens, and she fixes her hair and summons their jackets before taking his hand. "Come on," she says sweetly, and Newt tries very hard not to stare at the fair column of her neck while following her.

* * *

They partake of their wedding feast at a corner table in her favorite deli, paper napkins littering the Formica as Tina stares at his pickle with Mooncalf eyes. Newt passes it over without comment, rewarded with a toothy smile when she bites into it with relish before making it disappear.

"That was good," Tina sighs, nibbling on a crust of leftover rye bread. "I feel like I could eat another _gallon_ of pickles, though."

Newt lays down his knife to reach across the table and trace her wedding band. "Would you like me to get you some more?" he asks, flicking his eyes over to the busy counter. "I planned on ordering a few of those blintzes anyway, so it's no trouble."

Tina smiles, putting her dimple on dazzling display. "I'd like that."

Newt stuffs a forkful of beef knish into his mouth to keep from saying something foolish before standing. Tina holds his hand as he moves away until she's forced to drop it, and Newt hastily swallows his food to grin at her, big and goofy, before sidling up to the counter.

She devours the plate of pickles he brings her, absently wiping away the juice dribbling down her chin before squinting at his dish. "Is that—is that _strawberry_?" she asks, an unholy gleam in her eye. Newt offers her a taste when she pouts, only to gulp when she leans across the table, putting her cleavage on full display while snaring the piece.

Tina smirks when she sits down, looking at him coyly from beneath her lashes. "It's still early," she murmurs, dabbing the corner of her mouth. "Did you have anything else in mind for this evening?"

 _Many things_ , Newt's primal brain interjects, _starting with you discarding that lovely frock and giving me a practical demonstration of precisely how you came to be in your current condition!_

Some of the thought must show on his face, because Tina suddenly looks nervous, lifting a hand to cradle her throat. "Oh," she says with a wince, "I was just curious if you wanted to take in a show or, I don't know, go to the zoo or something. That's all."

The events of the day and his time-zone jump catch up with Newt all at once, his shoulders sagging dejectedly as he sighs. "I really think I'd rather go back to your flat," he admits, his jaw dropping in a well-timed yawn. "I'm suddenly quite tired."

Tina reaches across the table to brush her fingers over his chin, her eyes soft. "That sounds good to me," she murmurs. "Seems like lately, all I do is eat and sleep."

He stands to fetch their jackets before helping Tina into hers. "Building another human being is hard work," he tells her as she pokes her arms into the sleeves. "I'm honestly in awe that females are able to stay on their feet at all, nevermind go on living as if little has changed."

"It _is_ a funny feeling," Tina admits, wrinkling her nose before turning to him. "Will you stay with me tonight? In my bed, I mean. You're _very_ warm," she says, poking his chest playfully.

Grinning, Newt covers her hand with his own. "I'll sleep with you if that's what you'd like," he says, and of _course_ the ambient noise level in the deli chooses that precise moment to drop, allowing his voice to project to all four corners.

He winces when seemingly every head in the store turns to glare, only to relax as Tina bursts into giggles.

"We should go," she snorts, straightening his scarf. "Before you put your foot in your mouth any further!" Newt nods agreement and allows Tina to tow him through the tiny space, smirking when she barks, "We just got married, lady!" at a matronly woman giving him a particularly dark look before throwing open the door.

Newt waits until the storefront is at their back before resting his hands on her shoulders, gently halting her forward momentum. _"Tina."_

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she says when she turns around, avoiding eye contact. "I know. That was funny, but then—"

"—It wasn't," he finishes for her, and fishes for his handkerchief when her bottom lip trembles. She worries it between her fingers while looking at him pleadingly. "I keep going back and forth on you, don't I? I'm sorry. I know I've said that a lot these past few days, but it's true. This isn't even your problem— _I'm_ not your problem, but you're here and I can't even decide if I want to kiss you or—or—"

"Arrest me?" Newt jokes weakly, his hands tightening on the rack of her shoulders. Tina voices a watery laugh, and he looks down at their shoes before offering, "It's okay, Tina. You don't have to apologize. I _do_ understand, I promise."

Tina makes another soggy sound before blowing her nose and shoving his handkerchief in her pocket. "You're too good to me," she mumbles, but she's smiling despite her reddened eyes, and her hand is firm in his when she starts walking. "Come on, Newt. Let's go home."

"Whatever you'd like," he says, and her smile is enough to keep him warm the entire way to the brownstone.

* * *

It isn't until Tina presents her back to him with a shyly murmured, "Help me with my buttons?" that Newt realizes he _may_ have made a rather catastrophic error in judgment.

His fingers shake badly as he helps her out of her dress, politely averting his eyes when she kicks it off. "One second," she wheezes, sounding just as tense as he feels, and there's a clatter and a muffled curse before she says, "Okay, you can look up now," and he's greeted with the vision of Tina in a light seafoam nightgown, her long legs on full display.

His mouth goes dry, and he clears his throat before loosening his waistcoat. "Um," he gulps and squeezes his eyes shut while groping for his wand. "I'll just be a second, Tina, I—"

"I can go!" she blurts, at the precise moment he attempts to Transfigure his suit. Her voice distracts him, or perhaps her tone, and instead of pajamas, he finds himself staring down at his bare legs, all his clothing having vanished.

Newt makes a strangled cawing sound, heat slamming into his face when Tina bends double with raucous gusts of laughter. " _So_ sorry," he gasps, turning to snatch the blanket off the bed and cover himself as Tina braces against her knees, tears squeezing out of her eyes. "I really don't know what happened but I assure you, this was _not_ my intention!"

Tina points a shaking finger at him, face working as she attempts to contain her mirth. "You're still wearing your—y-your—" Her laughter gets away from her again, galloping around the room as she collapses onto the mattress.

Newt reaches for his throat to find a thin strip of fabric—his bowtie—still clinging to it. "Merlin's _saggy_ underpants," he growls and jerks it off before gingerly perching on the edge of the bed, watching his new bride slowly, _slowly_ calm down.

"Mercy Lewis," Tina gasps when she finally sits up, reaching for the blanket wrapped around his waist before thinking better of it. Newt snorts when she uses a discarded shirt to wipe her cheeks, only to grin as she turns dancing eyes on him. "What in the name of Deliverance Dane just _happened_ , Newt?"

"I forgot to pack pajamas," he admits sheepishly, "because I never wear them but I keep two pairs in my case for when I go through customs. I didn't think you'd want to sleep beside me in my usual attire, so I was attempting to transfigure my suit into something more appropriate, and...well…"

Tina tilts her head to the side. "So what do you usually wear?" she asks, only to raise her eyebrows when he pointedly looks away. _"Oh."_

"I don't like feeling confined," Newt explains weakly. "Usually I'm in my case or in my flat, so it isn't an issue. The creatures really don't care how I'm dressed, and there hasn't been a woman in—" He cuts himself off when he remembers precisely who he's speaking to, looking over to find her picking at a loose thread in the blanket before fetching a deep breath.

"I'm gonna use the toilet and wash up," Tina murmurs. "Go ahead and get into bed while I'm gone, and you can sleep...however you like to sleep. I really don't mind. Just…" She shakes her head before standing with a nervous smile, her eyes lingering on him until she leaves the room.

Newt groans and angrily scrubs his face once she's gone, cursing himself for all sorts of a fool before tossing aside the blanket. It takes him a moment to recall where he's left his leather traveling satchel, growling when he reaches inside for a clean pair of underpants before stepping into them.

A creaky floorboard announces Tina's return, and Newt dives into bed just in time for her to come stealing through the door, chewing her lip when she finds him lying stiff and rigid beneath the covers.

They watch each other carefully as she pads across the room. Newt sighs before moving over, lifting the blankets in invitation and allowing Tina to slip into bed with him, hesitating only a moment before slotting into his side. He closes his eyes in relief when he pulls her close, wrapping around her in a way that is quickly becoming familiar as she yawns and kisses his forearm.

"Goodnight, Newt," Tina murmurs, and he echoes her as they settle, her ripening curves pressed softly against him. He's on the verge of sleep when she squeezes his fingers, whispering haltingly, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a _really_ cute backside?"

He chuckles before kissing the back of her neck. "No," he answers honestly, "but I do appreciate the sentiment. Sleep well, Tina."

"It's got _freckles_ ," she breathes, her words slurring a little.

Newt presses his grinning face into her hair as she goes slack in his arms. He follows soon after and she colors his dreams with impressions and scents that see him through to morning.

Newt comes awake to find that his hands have moved to cradle Tina's stomach, framing her navel. She makes a sound in her sleep when his thumb strokes shallow crescents through her nightgown, and he kisses the nape of her neck until she wakes, turning to take him into her arms.


	4. Chapter 4

They spend their first morning as a married couple in bed, touching gently through the blankets as they speak in low murmurs.

"My parents used to take us to the shore on hot summer days," Tina says, her gaze turning distant. "We'd get shaved ice on Coney Island, and hot dogs. Those are some of my favorite memories."

"My brother and I used to be very competitive," Newt admits sometime later, squinting against the shaft of sunlight falling into his eyes as Tina pets his hair. "We aren't anymore, the war resolved that, but…"

"But you're still siblings," Tina guesses and smiles when he nods before hugging him properly, hesitantly pressing his face into her neck.

"Right you are," he mumbles and squeezes his eyes shut. "Are you ready to get up, Tina? As much as I'd like to spend the day lounging in bed with you, I'm afraid I need the toilet, and I imagine you do too."

"I thought you'd never ask," she gasps before leaping out of bed, where he's treated to the sight of her bare legs crossing the room as she retreats to the water closet. Newt waits until the door comes between them before groaning and hiding his face in her pillow, willing away the inevitable physical reaction to her proximity by recounting the properties of Swooping Evil venom until the flush leaves his cheeks, his center no longer quite so _achy_.

Then he flings aside the blankets to stand, reaching determinedly for his travel satchel.

* * *

They feast on a breakfast of toast with marmalade, augmented by plenty of hot coffee and tea before dressing individually. Tina admits she still isn't feeling well and Newt is not inclined to push, so they decide to spend their few remaining hours together cloistered on the couch—talking, laughing, sharing stories and tentatively bringing the other into their confidence.

"How old were you?" Tina asks suddenly after the shadows have grown long across the apartment. Newt slants an eyebrow at her in question and she blushes before looking away. "I mean, the first time you were with a woman—how old were you?"

Newt watches her steadily from beneath his fringe as she worries the edge of a cushion before opening her mouth, only for him to touch her fingers. "I'm not sure you'll like the answer," he says slowly, "but I can tell you that I was still in school when it happened. It was shortly before my expulsion, in fact, so I was no more than 16 years old."

Tina's jaw hardens. "Leta." It isn't a question.

He nods, and now it's his turn to look away, heat climbing into his face. "Yes. It would not be a lie to say that my—my _encounter_ with her was the catalyst for everything that happened afterward. I was a means to an end Tina, nothing more. Please don't concern yourself on that count."

"I'm not worried," she says, and though her jaw is still tight, she turns to meet his eyes. "I'm not because she's over there and I'm here, and _I'm_ the one with your ring on my finger. Not her."

Newt thinks this a rather stubborn oversimplification of the facts and almost says so—until he realizes that her face is pale and her eyes are anxious and overbright where they land on him. "Yes," he says instead and squeezes her hand reassuringly. "I haven't spoken to her in years, Tina. Please don't concern yourself on that count. Not now." She nods, and he looks at where he holds her, where she _isn't_ breaking out of his grip before blurting, "And you? How old were you when…?"

Tina smiles, though it's a strained thing. "It wasn't until I became an Auror. There was a guy. I thought I loved him, but…" She shrugs, and Newt nods in perfect understanding before focusing on the patterned wallpaper to wrest down a sudden, inexplicable jealousy. _Now you know how she felt, old chap,_ he thinks and closes his eyes when she strokes his scarred knuckles, sitting in amicable silence.

The clock chimes 5 pm, and Newt exhales gustily before forcing himself to look at her. "It's time for me to go," he murmurs, cupping her cheek when her lips tremble. "I—Tina, would you come with me, please? See me off at the Floo station?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," she warbles, and he takes her hand as they stand, abandoning it only to help her into her jacket and scarf before Summoning his satchel and escorting her down the stairs.

* * *

The international Floo terminal is as deserted as he expects on a Monday evening, and they linger awkwardly beneath the Transportation Specialists' keen gaze.

"Promise me you'll write," Tina says suddenly.

Newt cradles her jaw in lieu of his true wish—kissing her thoroughly—and shows a weak smile. "Every day," he promises, sliding his thumb along her bottom lip, feeling her silent gasp. "You'll be tired of me by the time I come back, I think."

"Doubtful," Tina says and squeezes his hand. "I'll keep an eye out for your letters. And your book. Just...promise me you'll be careful over there."

"I am always careful, but I promise to make more of an effort," he says and allows his eyes to fall to her waist, taking a long moment to gather his courage. "Especially now."

Tina flings herself at him, clutching him tightly as she peppers his cheek with kisses. "You crazy man," she gasps, and works her slow way to his mouth, kissing him gently, sweetly. "You foolish, brave, _ridiculous_ man." She kisses him again, a little deeper, as Newt threads his fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her skull, drinking her in.

Behind them, the Transportation Specialist clears his throat impatiently, forcing them apart. Tina clutches at his lapels until he gently disentangles himself from her grasp, bending to pick up his satchel. "Every day," he repeats when the hearth flares to life behind him, walking backward to hold her gaze. "I promise, Tina."

"You'd better," she says with a watery smile and touches her lips with two fingers. He mirrors the gesture, holding her eyes as he steps into the grate. The flames flare green around him, turning her face into something ethereal when he is tugged away from her, sucked into the void.

Only then does he close his eyes.

* * *

They exchange letters every day, as promised.

Newt counts himself lucky to be connected to the Floo Network each time his hearth spits out a slightly singed missive from her. Their correspondences start out stilted at first, but by his third week in London (a week that corresponds with his birthday,) they are filled with gentle, if sarcastic affection and secret jokes.

 _My Dearest Husband,_ Tina starts her letters, or sometimes _Dear Mr. Opportunity,_ and Newt smiles fondly while writing back: _My Stubborn Wife_ , _Apple of My Eye_ , and sometimes simply, _Darling._

He works like a man possessed to tie up loose ends, in between last-minute details for the publishing of his book, writing MACUSA to hammer out an agreement to allow him and his case temporary residence in the United States, and courting company.

Professor Dumbledore comes by for a memorable visit, and he's barely through the door before he's congratulating Newt. "I'd like to offer a toast to the happy couple," Dumbledore says, raising his teacup. Newt returns the gesture in kind, but he can't help but notice, though the professor's lips are smiling beneath his scrap of a beard, his gaze is hard and probing.

Their conversation struggles to gain traction after that, both men too preoccupied with their own long thoughts to pretend civility. Newt extends an invitation to dinner which is declined, and he can't hide his relief when he sees Dumbledore off with an absent farewell.

He writes to Tina to ask whether she's had any contact with Hogwarts, and is entirely unsurprised when she replies in the negative. _Do we need to be worried about this?_ She asks.

Newt chews the end of his quill, glancing around his home as if the wainscoting holds the answer, before hesitantly slashing out a reply. _I think it is prudent,_ he writes, _to keep your condition quiet for as long as is possible_.

Tina agrees, and it's just one more thing for Newt to worry about until he can return to her side.

* * *

Theseus shows up unannounced one morning in early March.

Newt sits nodding over tea and scones as his brother makes small talk, only to come awake all at once when Theseus asks casually, "Have you heard from your wife yet?"

The Floo rattles into life behind them, and Newt frowns when a rough-looking envelop sails across the room. It's a letter from Tina, though the penmanship is shakier and more blotched than usual, her writing slanting into itself.

"What do you know that I don't?" Newt asks as he fingers the smudged lettering. Theseus runs a broad hand through his black hair.

"They found Director Graves," he admits. "Or at least, what's left of him."

Newt winces and uses his wand to break the seal, tuning out his brother as he reads her letter. She's understandably distraught at this turn of events, a situation made worse by her own inner-turmoil and the lingering symptoms of early pregnancy. Unsurprisingly, Tina doesn't ask him to return to New York. Instead, she implores him to continue to be careful.

Newt sighs heavily before setting the letter aside to press his face into his hands. "I should go to her," he murmurs, avoiding Theseus keen gaze. "I should go and...I don't know. Help her through this. She needs my support."

"I think that would be an extraordinarily _bad_ idea," Theseus argues gently. "Much of your reason for marrying her was to keep her safe, wasn't it? So, what message do you suppose it sends if you drop everything to rush to her side when she's _only_ saying goodbye to a superior?" Newt can't come up with an argument to that, and he huffs when Theseus goes on. "Stay here, Newt. She has her sister and her letters and I'll be heading to New York tonight. She'll be alright, I promise."

He lifts his head to meet Theseus' eyes, his jaw set. "Keep an eye on her," Newt says, infusing his tone with authority. "Keep her _safe_ for me, Theseus."

Theseus raises his eyebrows while making a warding-off gesture with his hands. "You needn't worry, little brother," he promises. "In fact, that's why I came here." He rummages in his waistcoat pocket before withdrawing a rusty nail and a Galleon. "The coin will get hot if there's a problem," he explains, passing the items over, "and the nail is a Portkey. I trust you know how to use one?"

"Of course," Newt scoffs and watches his brother stand. "Wait—when do you leave?"

"About ten minutes ago," Theseus says, flashing a devil-may-care grin while shrugging into his coat. "I'll keep an eye on her, I promise."

Newt clasps Theseus' shoulder, squeezing gently. "Please do," he implores and manages a fleeting smile before looking away. "If you talk to her, tell her—tell her I'll be home as soon as I can. Tell her I'm almost done here. Tell her—"

" _Newt_." Theseus sounds amused, and he squeezes Newt's hand after wresting it away from his arm. "Write to your wife. Now, before you lose your nerve. I'll send you a letter either tonight or tomorrow. And try not to worry too much. She'll be _fine_. You'll see."

"I hope so," Newt mumbles, feeling cowardly and useless as his brother takes his leave, his Slytherin scarf bright against the grey backdrop of London. He waits until Theseus is out of sight before summoning his stationary, nervously unraveling the hem of his favorite jumper as he composes a reply to Tina.

* * *

Newt writes three separate letters that day, feeding them all into the Floo before he can second-guess himself. He writes three more the next day, which happens to be the day of Percival Graves' funeral. The third day sees no response from Tina, and he barely sleeps that night, enchanted Galleon clenched in his fist as he ruminates on the possibilities, over and over, until his eyes burn and he can no longer stand the feel of his bedsheets against his skin.

Tina's reply arrives just before noon on the fourth day. It lands with unerring accuracy in his soup, but he's too delighted to be bothered by the damp parchment as he devours her words, savoring them with a long sigh before reading it again.

 _Thank you for your letters,_ she writes. _I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you to stay behind. Your brother explained your reasoning and I think it makes perfect sense, so you can stop apologizing now. I'll be okay._

A vast and sweeping relief prompts Newt to close his eyes, leaning his head on the table after pushing his soup aside. "Tina," he mumbles into the placemat. "I don't know what you're doing to me. I don't think you do, either." He scrubs his palm over his cheek while straightening, sending his untouched meal to the stove before standing to write a relieved letter to his wife.

* * *

Newt's set to return to New York in two days when an owl swoops through his window, bearing a small package.

He relieves the bird of its burden before treating it to a mouse, smiling as the owl takes a perch and tears into its meal. A cursory glance reveals that the package is from Theseus. Newt makes a thoughtful sound before untying the twine and parting the simple brown paper.

The box holds nothing more than a shiny key and a scrap of parchment. Intrigued, Newt scrutinizes the bit of metal to convince himself that it is, in fact, a key to the townhome he currently resides in before unfolding the note.

 _Dear little brother_ , it reads. _I was unable to convince Mother and Father to welcome you back into their good graces, even after I explained your nuptials and impending offspring._ Newt rolls his eyes, grumbling, "I could have told you to save your breath, Theo," before continuing. _However, I am now old enough to claim my full inheritance from Grandpa McKinnon so I'll no longer have use of the house on Sherringford Square. Consider it my wedding gift to you._

Newt's hands tremble badly when he finishes the missive ( _With love, Theseus_ ) before staring hard at the piece of metal. "Well," he says to the near-empty townhome, looking around the space that now belongs to _him_ before making a fist around the precious key. "I suppose we don't have to worry about a place to live, should New York fall through."

Pickett chirrups questioning from his pocket, the owl hoots softly from its perch. Newt smiles as he scribbles an addendum to Tina's daily letter before sending it through the flames, picturing her delighted expression. He allows Pickett to climb onto his shoulder before popping the latches on his case, whistling cheerfully as he descends into the fragrant darkness.

* * *

Tina's there to greet him when he steps, sooty and disheveled, through the International Floo gateway. She is smiling, grinning even, her face glowing with happiness and something else. He takes a long moment to stare in awe before she takes him into her arms.

"I missed you," she breathes, her hands locked at the small of his back. "So, so much."

Newt responds in kind, the warm skin of her forehead beneath his lips as he breathes in her clean scent, memorizing it until she takes his hand. "Let's go home," she says, and he squeezes her fingers in agreement, watching the proud sway of her hips as she leads him into the street.


	5. Chapter 5

Queenie greets them at the brownstone with typical enthusiasm, kissing her sister's cheek before pulling Newt into an expansive hug. "We're so happy you're back!" she exclaims, and the sister's share a laugh at his expense when his cheek heats up beneath her lips.

"I'm glad to _be_ back," Newt admits, meaning every word—but it isn't Queenie he's speaking to when he says it, and Tina's answering flush makes him tingle all over.

Tina sheds her jacket before reaching for his, and he experiences a surreal moment when he takes in the new softness in her chest and midsection, the luminescence of her skin. "How are you feeling?" he asks quietly, ignoring Queenie's delighted giggle when Tina freezes in the act of hanging up their coats.

"Pretty great," she murmurs, meeting his eyes before inexplicably looking away. "I'm not getting sick any more. Actually, I'm hungry all the time now." She toes the floor while pushing a sheaf of dark hair out of her face, the movement highlighting the new fullness in her breasts. "I read all of those books you sent me, and some said that was normal, but some said that it _wasn't_ , so I didn't mention it because I didn't want you to worry."

"I never worry," Newt lies, and squeezes her elbow reassuringly when she looks up at him. "As far as I can tell, those books should be used as guidelines, not rules. Every woman is different, Tina. Your body will tell you what it needs."

"Seems like lately, all she needs is olives and cheese," Queenie pipes up from the kitchen where she's preparing a light lunch. "Oh, and soda pop when she's feeling tired."

"I do miss hot dogs," Tina says longingly, and the face Newt pulls causes the sisters to laugh as he follows them into the kitchen, pulling out Tina's chair before taking a seat next to her.

They catch up over sandwiches, talking over each other in their excitement. Queenie pulls out a shoebox full of photographs after lunch and manages to thoroughly embarrass Tina before taking her leave.

"Don't you go gettin' any ideas!" Tina sternly admonishes him once Queenie's absconded the apartment, but the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth betrays her joy.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Newt says blandly. "Though, I wonder what was going through your mother's mind when she snapped that photograph of you bathing in the sink."

"Mercy Lewis, you'll never let me live that down, will you?" Tina asks, hiding her face in her hands despite her giggles.

"Not at all," Newt promises and takes her wrists to pry her fingers from her face as Tina's giggles turn into full-throated laughter. "Come now, what's funny?"

"Everything," she gasps, eyes dancing. "The pictures, Queenie's stories...you being home. I'm just so happy right now, and I haven't been for so long." Her laughter trails away when she ducks her head. "Then I feel bad for being happy," she admits, "because I remember what happened to Mr. Graves, and everything we still don't know, and..." Her hand moves to stroke her stomach, which is just beginning to show a curve, as Newt gropes for a suitable answer.

"I'm here," he says finally. "I promised to help you with this, and I will. What can I do?"

Tina chews her lip. "I don't know," she says, but her body moves in direct contradiction of her words, her hands twitching toward him. Newt doesn't question the impulse when he slides close enough to feel her breathing before hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

"Is this…?" He asks, muffling his words in her hair.

"Perfect. It's perfect," Tina whispers and presses her face into his shoulder as he rubs gentle circles on her back.

* * *

They fall into easy domesticity.

Tina is up with the sun most days, and Newt climbs out of bed alongside her to take care of his creatures as she showers and dresses. He prepares them breakfast before attending to his own morning ablutions, finishing just in time to kiss her cheek as she rushes out the door. Some days, he packs her a lunch; others, he meets her at the Woolworth building bearing whatever food item she is craving that week, smiling at her softly as she makes appreciative little moaning sounds around her food.

The evening sees them gathered before the hearth or around the wireless, trading stories with Queenie some nights, and sitting in comfortable silence on others. Tina has moments when she fears for the child she carries and mourns Mr. Graves in turn, but Newt is careful to help her through them, and they become less and less frequent as March turns into April and the snow on the streets turns into muddy slush.

There's a distinct note of spring in the air one fine morning when, with Tina safely behind her desk at work, Queenie takes Newt's arm to show him around the city. They buy skeins of wool and yards of diaper weave cotton, flannel for blankets and pins charmed to never, ever prick an infant's tender skin.

Queenie takes him somewhere else too, someplace that he tucks into the back of his mind for safekeeping before returning to the brownstone to cook his wife supper and await her return. Her slow smile when he shows her his purchases is worth its weight in gold, and it warms him from within as he lays beside her later that night, stroking the curve of her stomach as she sleeps.

An owl shows up the next day bearing a bulky package, and Newt is nearly vibrating with excitement when Tina trudges through the door. He waits until she's eaten her fill at supper before showing it to her, thrusting his book into her hands with a mumbled, "Delivered in person, as promised," while anxiously watching her face.

Tina throws her arms around him in a tight hug before kissing his lips, the warmth of her mouth causing his knees to weaken. "I love it," she breathes, beaming up at him. "I love—" She cuts herself off with a snap of the jaw, cheeks coloring as she traces the bronze lettering with a trembling thumb. "Thank you, Newt," she mumbles, and he kisses her again, carding his fingers through her hair and wishing desperately that she had finished her sentence.

She never does, but Newt finds he can't hold it against her. Instead, he tucks her beneath his chin when they climb into bed, and she clings to him all night long.

* * *

They're at market one balmy spring morning when Tina inhales sharply and grabs his hand.

Newt glances up in alarm, only to gasp when she tugs him into an alley. A precisely executed spin sees her back against the wall, where she grasps his wrist to slant his palm over the prominence of her stomach. "Do you feel that?" she hisses urgently, dark eyes devouring his face as their basket of produce tumbles to the ground.

Newt opens his mouth to tell her that no, he doesn't feel anything—only to gasp when the faintest flutter trembles through his fingers. He holds his breath until it comes again, light enough to almost, _almost_ be the vibration of his own heartbeat. Tina's radiant smile tells him that no, this is very much external, something other than them both, and her hand squeezes him as she giggles, her laughter turning into sniffles when she suddenly wilts.

"It's okay," she gasps, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Newt, the baby—it's okay."

"Yes," he murmurs, feeling his eyes prickle. "Yes darling, they're doing just fine. See?"

Tina laughs delightedly through her tears, muffling the sound in his jacket when he embraces her. She clings to him as weeks of tension and fear dissolves, tracking over her cheeks until she steps back with a gasp and allows him to gently swab her face with his handkerchief.

"Is this your first time quickening?" Newt asks, tenderly touching her hair.

"No," Tina admits in a tear-hoarse voice. "I felt it a few times over the past week but...I really thought it was just gas!" She blushes when Newt laughs, gentle and carefree before taking her face in both his hands.

" _Wonderful_ , Miss Goldstein," he murmurs happily. "Truly fantastic. Well done."

"It's _Scamander_ ," Tina corrects him in a fierce whisper, and his mouth falls open in shock just before she bounces on tiptoes to kiss him firmly, running her fingers through his hair.

Newt takes her in his arms, chasing her mouth with his own until he gentles their kiss, surrounded by potatoes and carrots with their future cradled gently between them.

* * *

Newt awakens one early summer morning with a single thought, the persistent image of the small oasis Queenie had shown him burning in his mind.

"Dress comfortably," he tells Tina over breakfast, bending to deposit a kiss on the nape of her neck while serving eggs. She raises a curious eyebrow but agrees without comment, selecting a light pair of slacks and an airy blouse, and taking his hand with confidence as he guides her to the door.

He flashes a nervous smile when she looks at him trustingly, tightening his hold on her hand as he focuses. The familiar jerk of Apparition brings them to a windswept slice of coastland, deserted save for the seagulls. Capricious winds play with their hair, the sun warm on their faces. Tina looks around before turning to him with a radiant smile.

"Did you know?" She asks, pressing her fingers to his chest. "Did you know that this is where my parents used to take Queenie and me?"

Queenie's insistence on bringing him here suddenly makes sense, and Newt blinks before taking her elbow. "No, I had no idea," he says honestly, watching her face for any sign of anger or disappointment. "I only thought it was someplace nice to go on a day off, I didn't realize— _mmph!_ "

His words are cut off by her mouth when Tina throws herself at him, her arms tightening around his neck until she breaks the kiss to press firm, hot lips along his jaw. "Be quiet," she murmurs, not unkindly, and presses the breath out of his lungs. "Just...shut up and kiss me."

Newt pulls her close to do as she instructs, losing himself in the heat of her mouth, the warm velvet of her tongue until she gasps and scrapes her teeth down the column of his neck. "Newt," she says, and the tone of her voice causes heat to pool in his lower belly. He leans their foreheads together to search her gaze, finding nothing but hunger there, before nodding.

"Whatever you want," he promises, and he's so focused on her eyes that he fails to notice when she wordlessly brings them home, only the sudden lack of wind alerting him to their new surroundings.

Tina takes his hand to lead him to bed. He sits at her command, bending to remove their shoes in between heated kisses before wrapping his arms around her waist. She sighs happily when he lathers her swollen stomach with kisses before tugging her blouse free of her slacks, hands ghosting over the taut expanse of skin. Tina's fingernails rake his scalp before migrating over his chest, and Newt tips his head back to allow her to shuck his waistcoat and shirt before standing to kiss her.

"Are we really doing this?" Tina asks suddenly, her hands hovering around the hem of her blouse. The flutter of Billywig wings in his stomach prompts Newt to gulp, nervous sweat coating his palms.

"Yes," he rasps and notches his hands into her waist to kiss her. "But only if you want to, Tina."

"I do," she promises and urges his hands beneath her blouse to help her pull it off, her hair drifting around her face like a stormcloud. He kisses her while tentatively cupping her breast, emboldened when her broad nipple springs to life against his palm.

"Hmm," he hums against her neck, feeling the flutter of her pulse against his lips when he smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Tina hisses, urging his hand toward the placket of her trousers, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. " _Newt._ "

"Tina," he breathes against her lips, slipping his hand inside to cup her through the thin material of her underwear and holding his breath when molten heat seeps into his palm.

"I _told_ you," she gasps when he grinds against her with the heel of his hand, drinking in her trembling breath. He kisses her deeply to taste her sounds of delight until she digs her fingernails into his bare chest, appreciatively fingering the light smattering of coppery hairs. "I think it's time you take your pants off, Newt."

He murmurs in agreement as Tina tugs on the buttons of his fly before shoving his trousers and underwear past his hips. He steps out of them, cradling her jaw as she moves backward, dragging him onto the mattress. She gasps his name when his weight bears down on her, one slender leg kicking off her trousers and hooking over the back of his legs as she fumbles between them to loosen her underwear.

Newt curves his body around the swell of her stomach, careful not to pinch it between them as he fingers her warmth, testing her readiness. Her fingers wrap around him to stroke and Newt meets her eyes when she uses both hands to guide him in, humming as he fills her.

Tina gasps and shudders as he leans their foreheads together, supporting himself on trembling arms as he remains perfectly still. "Alright?" he asks after a few moments, kissing her cheek when she swallows loudly.

" _Yes,_ " Tina breathes, and drags her fingertips the length of his spine, causing him to shiver. "Please don't stop."

He huffs out a breath of laughter before kissing her temple. "I wouldn't dream of it, darling," he murmurs and plucks the gasp out of her mouth when he rocks them together. Tina's lips part on a long sigh when he settles against her in a slow, easy rhythm, her fingernails finding a home in the small of his back as her teeth mark his skin.

Newt tangles his fingers in her hair when pleasure curls around them, binding them together. He uses the squeeze of her leg, the changes in her breathing and her quiet gasps as his guide, adjusting his movements to tease gratification out of her until she tenses beneath him, her lips forming the shape of his name.

Tina comes with a low, breathless moan, and the feel of her clenching around him, the sharp prick of her fingernails into his back is enough to drag him after her, gasping as he presses his face into her shoulder.

Newt eventually lifts his head to find her watching him with tears on her face, her mouth curled into a small but happy smile. "No, I'm fine," she sniffles when he curiously touches her cheek, allowing him to wipe her tears away. "I just...it's a bit much to take in at all once, you know?"

He _does_ know, and he says so before shuffling to her side, rolling to pull her into his arms. She goes easily, allowing him to kiss away her tears until she calms.

"Well," Tina says after a time, grinning up at him. "I guess I'm going to have to go ahead and change my last name after all." Newt slants a curious eyebrow and she traces the outline of his mouth before going on. "We...our marriage is legal now, you know. I waited because I didn't know—I mean, I wasn't sure if you…"

"I meant what I said," Newt says calmly. "I'm here for as long as you want me, Tina."

"Well, you're stuck with me now," Tina teases gently, which is as good as _I'm yours forever_ in Newt's mind. He smiles before pressing his lips to her forehead, tasting her light sweat.

"I can live with that," he tells her, knowing the words to be absolutely true, and chuckles while tugging the blanket over them both.


	6. Chapter 6

A daughter comes to them in early August, blowing into their lives with all the force of a summer storm.

She is the spit and image of her mother, and she owns Newt's heart from the moment he lays eyes on her. He holds her as the healers attend to Tina, until his wife reaches for their daughter, her body shifting toward them beneath the sheets.

Their first year as a family is far more difficult than either of them could have predicted. Persephone is a fussy infant, always bothered by _something_ , and Newt spends many sleepless nights pacing the floors with her so Tina can be adequately rested for work. He's an expert in diapers and feedings by the time she grows past her colicky phase, and her personality is as sunny as Tahiti—a sharp contrast to her original Cape of Storms disposition—when they celebrate her first birthday.

Persephone's second year sees her parents sharing strained smiles as Aunt Queenie fusses over her, taking magical photographs of a dark-haired, pig-tailed girl smiling into the camera with chocolate icing smeared all over her face. Queenie corners them later, and Tina admits that, while their daughter is bright and precocious in the best of ways, they still have a concern: never has Persephone accidentally set her mobile on fire, or inadvertently summoned a stuffed toy she wanted from across the room and was never able to cushion herself from falls.

"You think she's a squib?" Queenie asks, brow wrinkling in concern.

"Well, there's really no way to tell yet, is there?" Tina replies, more sharply than she probably intends—but they can't hide the weight of their certainty, and even Queenie's gentle reminders fail to make them feel better.

 _Maybe this would be for the best_ , Newt thinks sometimes, staring at the child who so takes after Tina, a permanent physical reminder of her temporary lapse in judgment. _Maybe it is better if you don't have magic. Then you can't hurt people that way._

Newt recognizes when the weight of Persephone's possible defect is weighing on Tina's mind, and he always makes himself available to calm her. Still, she worries almost compulsively—at least until a month before Persephone turns three when Newt announces that he's been commissioned for the second edition of his book. The commission comes with a sizeable advance and larger royalty, and he takes Tina's hands to dance them around the apartment before kissing her lovely mouth.

"It's enough to buy a house here in New York, Tina," Newt says, her eyes positively dancing up at him. "It's enough for everything we've ever talked about, and more besides." He kisses her again, a bit more suggestively, and Tina clutches the lapels of his waistcoat before putting their daughter down for a nap.

Tina takes him to bed, worshipping his body in crisscrossing shafts of afternoon sunlight. She kisses him as they move together in comfortable and familiar ways, holding him close. Perhaps it's the excitement of their bright potential future, maybe it's some unspoken longing in the air, but Newt is not as careful as he usually is, and her mouth falls open with a shocked moan when he presses himself to the root before going still.

He is instantly contrite, apologetic tears standing in his eyes as he brushes the hair out of her face. Tina strokes his back gently, murmuring, "It's okay, Newt. It's okay. We'll take it as it comes," as his head spins with a breathless combination of hope, anxiety, and anticipation.

The fullness of time reveals that Persephone is not to have a sibling, and he recognizes that Tina approaching him is likely one of the hardest things she's ever had to do. He watches her explain the situation with dry eyes before nodding his understanding, his words clipped when he apologizes again, hands fluttering like wounded birds at his side.

" _Stop,_ " Tina bites out, a sudden flash of irritation tightening her jaw. "I know you would have been happy to have another baby. I _know_ that. I just—I don't know if I'm ready to do all that again. Especially because we still don't know if 'Seph…"

His hands settle on her shoulders, pulling her close. He inhales her scent of lemon, parchment, and sunshine while closing his eyes. "Persephone will take care of herself," he reminds her and drops a kiss on her hair. "And Tina, darling, I'd love to have another child—you know that." He brushes her midsection with trembling fingers. "But I'd be far more delighted with a wife who is happy and unburdened by worry. It is your choice, Tina, as it always has been. I'm just along for the ride."

"Boy, you sure do know how to charm a girl," Tina says dryly, but she's smiling—for what seems like the first time in years—and as she returns to their daughter, Newt watches after her with hopeful eyes.

* * *

Tina takes him to bed the week after Persephone's third birthday when their daughter has gone to her aunt and uncle's for the night. She strokes his hair and breathes his name as they rock together, and her mouth is hot on his ear as his climax builds, her whispered words of "Don't you _dare_ stop!" spurring him to a messy but glorious end.

She is as lush and receptive as he ever could have hoped, and she waxes like the moon until she tells him of their impending second child, her mouth curling into a secret smile as he gently cradles her breast. Persephone inserts herself between them, laughing when they share a gangling family hug, Newt taking the time to kiss his daughter and wife as his chest fills with joy.

* * *

A son comes in winter, a small, freckle-dusted bundle of red hair and powerful lungs.

He is the opposite of his sister in every way, fair where she is dark, shy where she is straightforward. He takes after his father so they name him Kallisto, and though adjusting to two is far more difficult than either of them expected, Newt is fervently grateful for Percival Graves and a night of unthinking passion, knowing that it was all the catalyst for the family he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

"Do you think we should tell them?" Tina asks softly one day when Kallisto is just starting to crawl and Persephone is learning her letters in preparation for starting at a No-Maj school.

Newt looks up from book revisions—the planned third edition means that he can officially move his family to England should his wife agree, though he hasn't brought it up yet—to show a smile. "That's up to you, darling," he says, glancing at where a framed photograph of a tombstone rests on their mantle. "As it always has been."

Tina moves to his side and takes his hand in hers, tracing the scars on his knuckles. "We wouldn't have any of this without you, you know," she murmurs and kisses the hinge of his jaw. "I know I don't say it enough, and I know _they_ could never understand, but...thank you, Newt. For everything."

He looks at her steadily from beneath his fringe, lovingly mapping the curve of her cheek, the dark fan of her eyelashes. "It is I who should be thanking you," he murmurs. "I wouldn't have this if you hadn't accepted me all those years ago."

Newt rubs her thumb before planting a kiss on the side of her neck, inhaling her good, clean scent. "You and Persephone and Kallisto—you gave my life _meaning_ , Tina. Even more than my creatures. Please don't ever think you have to thank me, because…" He can't express it, can't put into words the enormity of what he feels for them—but one look at her face tells him she understands, her eyes brimming with tears.

"You wonderfully, silly, ridiculous man," Tina whispers and kisses him. "I'm so glad you're ours."

"Believe me," Newt says, cupping her cheek in his calloused hand. "I feel precisely the same."


End file.
